Lick of Flame
by Torchwood Prof
Summary: October 2002: Harry Potter is on the very brink of death, but is brought back to life by the bite of a vampire. Confused, Harry runs. January 2005: Bella Swan moves to Forks - but the Cullens aren't the only vampires around . . . HP/?, EC/BS, JB/? WIP


Author's Note:

The Professor: Hello, and welcome to Ambrose the Book-Wolf and the Torchwood Professor's story, "Lick of Flame" - we should really stop starting stories, since we'll probably never end up finishing ANY of them at this rate, but since this little niggling idea won't leave us alone, we'll just go along with it. Sorry 'bout that. Still, sooner we kick this off, sooner we get started on the ninth MIHJ. OK then!

Ambrose: OK, I'll be doing the disclaimer - and to those of you who've read our other stuff, the disclaimer may seem rather familiar. Well, we just can't be bothered to change it, so yeah. Ahem . . . Harry Potter and all other people, places, concepts, species', etc that are affiliated with the Harry Potter universe are the intellectual property of J.K. Rowling, and of course all those guys at Warner Bros. who do the movies probably own a bit too. Twilight and all other people, places, concepts, species', etc that are affiliated with the Twilight universe are the intellectual property of Stephanie Meyer, the author - though, the people who did the movie might own a bit as well . . . Any and all other references to outside TV shows, movies, cartoons, books, etc, are not in any way inclined toward encroaching copyright. And this first chapter is set about three years or so before the first Twilight book, so expect a bit of repetition of the books later on - again, not much we can do. Us muses are flighty things . . .

The Professor: Now, for those of you hoping for a Harry/Edward - it isn't happening, if only 'cause we haven't written Edward before, so he's gonna be off with Bella, and as for Jake and Harry - well, you'll just have to see, won't you? Forward - march!

(Chapter 1 - Start)

October 2nd, 2002  
Sitkum Sol Duc Road, just outside of Forks, Washington  
6:31 AM

-***-

Smell - burning rubber.  
Hear - crackling, _drip-drip-drip._  
Touch - metal, crooked.  
Taste - blood, warm, sweet?  
Feel - nothing.

_Who am I?_

_-***-_

_The flame was gone. As if doused too late, the man's body was unmoving and unfeeling. Beside him, another body lay - twisted with flame, also, but blackened to a crisp, nothing left of him but cinders.  
The first man was untouched, body gleaming almost smugly in the light of the breaking dawn - pristine, like marble, and just as unfeeling. As cold as the depths of space, and just as empty. As flawless as a diamond, and sparkling just the same.  
And then, as if by divine wish, the man awoke; with his back bowed and his eyes blood red, the new-born vampire took in the first breath of a new life._

-***-

October 2nd, 2002  
Sitkum Sol Duc Road, just outside of Forks, Washington  
7:02 AM

-***-

The vampire hadn't taken long to find out who he had been before the flames - not a foot away from him lay a brown leather wallet, which almost seemed to mock the no doubt tragic scene with its complete lack of even a scratch, and it had been ripped apart by the feverish man the moment it had been spotted. A small shower of plastic and metal came free, and the man had watched the cards fall to the ground with an almost childish fascination - these first few moments of a new-born life were the same world over.

When it became clear that the trinkets would not be getting up again, the vampire grasped the closest slip of plastic intently in his hands before looking down at the driver's license contemplatively. He squinted down at the plastic, his sub-par vision still repairing itself, and he took a few seconds to read the words messily inscribed on the flimsy material. It took him a moment to recall the alphabet, and another for words to come to him, but he eventually regained the ability to read. Enough to be getting on with, at least.

"He-airry Jhames Pouter?" The look of confusion upon the near-godly face was an amusing sight to be sure, but the vampire cared not for invisible audiences, and instead read the name over and over again, with a slight tickle in the back of his head seeming to urge him to do so. "Hah - Harry? Thas - no, that's! - that's right. Harry - James - POTTER!" A wide grin spread across the pale, unmarked skin, and the vampire threw his head back in exultation. "Harry James Potter! Heh - that's me." He continued to grin for a second more, but his attention was grasped by the picture that filled up the rest of the plastic.

"Who's that, then?" The creature that had once been Harry Potter turned the plastic over in his hand, and shook his head at the absence of any more hints as to his identity. He threw the card to the side, no longer interested (it ended up embedded in the ground, nearly half a meter under the top soil) and instead tried to stand up - his legs complied without even a twinge of discomfort, and he soon found himself looking around the forest clearing around him. His attention was soon caught, however, by a heady, warm smell in the air - almost like fine perfume being wafted across the land.

Harry looked around in excitement - the scent told him that food was nearby, and he _was _feeling rather hungry, though he couldn't say why - for the source of the sweet smell that littered the air around him. It didn't take him long before his eyes settled on the corpse that had laid next to him five minutes ago, and the grin of anticipation that had settled on his face didn't take long to morph into a disgusted grimace. A small part of his brain was telling him that it was food, that it was all right really, no-one would get hurt, it'd all be worth it, that if he just tried some - but the rest of his brain was screaming in revulsion, and it took every bit of self-control not to let such a scream could from his own throat.

The vampire dropped to his knees, his eyes seeming to flicker between blood red and the more familiar colour of emerald green, before settling one of his hands upon his stomach as it seemed to whirl in the confines of his body. As his eyes took in the sight of the charred body, he felt another tickle in his mind, and he realised what - or who - he was looking at.

He'd known this person, he knew that - very well, too, if the faint stirrings of sadness in his mind were anything to tell by. He bit his lip slightly - who was it, though? He couldn't remember anything about what had come before the lick of flame, save his name (which he had needed help with), and he very much doubted that sitting around here would help anymore than it had already - certainly not if he gave over the compulsion to start vomiting, though he suspected that he wouldn't be able to anyway.

Another scent began to approach Harry, this one even richer than the previous one had been, and he felt a burn in his throat as it got closer and closer. He couldn't just smell it, he could _feel _it! Feel the thrumming heartbeat, the warmth of life - and he couldn't help but let his eyes slide back to the burnt remains of a past he could not remember. The urge to heave hit him again, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to feast on the blood approaching, not even if it were already dead, not even if it laid in front of him and offered itself - he would be struck again and again by the sight of _that_ body, as if it were burnt into his mind like a brand, and - and that was that.

Scared senseless by the urges still bombarding him, Harry stumbled backward, his limbs unresponsive, and he could only snarl at himself for these awful, awful instincts that were beating at him - his face still contorted unnaturally, he began to retreat into the wood that he could only hope would swallow him up, before throwing caution to the wind and running full pelt into the all-consuming green.

And not two hundred miles away, in Port Angeles Airport lounge number two, Alice Cullen wished Harry Potter a safe journey.

(End of Chapter 1 - End)

Ambrose: So, whaddya think? Good, bad, not worth reading? We're still pretty much in the planning stages for this fic, so any input would be appreciated. Of course, constructive criticism would be worth it's weight in gold . . .

The Professor: You get the idea - send a review, or we won't know what you want, and we wouldn't want that, now would we? Keep in mind this IS the first chapter, though - it can only get better. We hope . . . See ya next time, guys! And leave a review? Please?


End file.
